


sorry about the window, mister

by weatheredlaw



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Ballet, Body Horror, F/M, Gen, Mild Language, Possessive Behavior, Secrets, Sharing a Body, Sharing a Brain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sometimes life gives you lemons and accidentally makes you a superhero. Also you have math homework and no one feels bad for you.</i> </p><p>or: the story of a hero, how he got there, and the people who help him along the way</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hair dye for breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an ongoing story that explores the kids as super fantastic mutants, heroes, heroines, etc..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reluctant hero is born, gets hungry, and does some property damage.

There are three distinct "danger zones" in Domino City that Yugi has isolated since he started jumping from rooftops a few months ago -- four, if you count the fact that Yugi is _jumping from roof to roof_ , thereby creating a danger zone of his very own everywhere he goes. It's sort of freeing, donning the leggings and shirt, disappearing into the shadows. The costume is crudely constructed, but it keeps him out of sight. He had tried, at the start, to do _something_ with his hair, but it drove him crazy, sweating under a snow hat all night, and anything else would have only drawn more attention to himself. He opts for his grandfather's classic style -- a dark bandana that presses down the more out of control locks and leaves him looking shorter than normal.

He still ends up covering it with dark, temporary hair coloring, watching it curl its way down the drain at three AM, and wearing a mask for his face. God. 

Six months ago, he would have balked at the idea, fainted at the prospect of _leaping_ across rooftops, shelling out thirty dollars of his paycheck every week for kick boxing lessons, lying to his grandfather about the sleepless nights, the bags under his eyes, hiding the skinned knees and the _bruises_ that blossom like rotting flowers on his legs and arms. 

But six months ago, Yugi didn't have the spirit of an anciet pharoah living in his head. So, you know, there's that, too.

 

 

The Pharaoh didn't have a name, not one he could remember. He had come from a puzzle that Yugi had found on one of his many thrift store outings in a smaller town outside Domino, coveted by an old man with an accent he couldn't place. The man told Yugi that the puzzle in question had belonged to a king, and that king had saved his people by locking his spirit away within the pieces of this puzzle. Yugi didn't really give two shits about a king or any of that, and Egypt was a far away place for him, somewhere he'd never go or never care about. He just liked puzzles. 

"Forty dollars," the man said, and Yugi balked because this puzzle was _gold_ , like honest to God actual _pure gold_. The man grinned and took Yugi's money, the bills not even in the till when Yugi thrust the puzzle into his bag and took off on his bike five seconds later. Maybe if he'd stayed, he would have heard the story. In another world, Yugi Muto listens and leaves the puzzle behind, buys himself lunch and shivers because stories like that never just _leave_ you.

But in this world, Yugi Muto clutches the puzzle to his chest and runs with his prize because puzzles and games are like friends who never leave you. And this one was made of gold. 

 

 

Now Yugi is perched on the roof of the burger shop where he works, contemplating sneaking in through the back and stealing a number four -- a double patty, extra cheese, pickles, carmelized onions, tomato and spicy mayo with a side of zesty fries holy shit -- and watching the moon come all the way up on one of the safe roofs in town.

"We are not _thieves_ ," the Pharaoh says, his tone bouncing off Yugi's hunger like nothing. Yugi ignores him and drops down the side of the building, slips in through the back door, and finds what he wants. It's painfully slow this late at night.

"I'll drop some money in the register in the morning. I'm hungry _now_ ," Yugi mutters, putting the brown bag of food between his teeth and climbing back up the wall. He's been getting better at the stealth stuff, now that more of the Pharaoh's powers are his, too. He's limited to what he can do physically -- the running and jumping and leaping and all the boring stuff that came with the puzzle, like a kids meal toy. The Pharaoh's the one with mind crushing powers and the teleportation and the weird ancient glowing light thing that always gives Yugi the chills. The one he sees in his dreams and wakes up in a mad rush to shake away.

Silouhetted against the moon, Yugi pushes his hair back flat against his head and enjoys his number four, wiping the grease on his pants and opening a can of Coke with one hand. "Sloth-like," the Pharaoh says. Yugi shrugs. "You are very lazy sometimes, you know that?"

"We have the best seat in the house, okay?" Yugi turns around fishes something out of a brick enclove on the roof. He's been stashing his gear up here in a waterproof gym bag, hidden behind some loose bricks piled on the top of the building. "Tah-dah! Brand new police scanner."

"That does not pick up everything and you know it."

"Yeah, well I can't _get_ to everything and you know it." Yugi chews on his fries with more force than necessary, looking off at a distant, dark ally way. Domino is full of nooks and cranies like that, covering up a few homicides a week, a handful of hard drug deals and some seriously messed up folks trading money for all kinds of weird things in the parking lot behind the roller rink. Yugi fishishes off his burger and stands, satisfied and full.

" _Yugi_ \--"

"Yeah, I see it." In the alley way behind the building, Yugi catches the flash of a gun firing, hears the distinctive _pop_ of the silencer. He scrambles for the mask he made out of a piece of long, black pantyhose and feels his hair flatten destructively against the back of his neck. He's going to look _disgusting_ when he pulls this thing off, but whatever. He feels that familiar rush of focus fill him as the Pharaoh works his way deeper into his consciousness, pulls apart the things that Yugi _knows_ \-- his own face and hands, his name and his memories and his wants and cravings -- and fills the cracks and spaces of his head with power and melted, steaming gold. Yugi reaches the edge of the building as the last of himself fades away and he is nothing but a pharaoh, now, a king out of his time and place. 

The Pharaoh lands on his feet, stretching like a cat and throwing off the last vestiges of the transformation like sparks from his shoulders. The allyway is still dark and stuffed with the mutterings of petty criminals, in over their heads. Yugi's voice is far away at the base of his skull, begging him to be careful, threatening him with house-arrest if he even _thinks_ about taking off the mask. The Pharaoh humors him, but it wounds him, deep, to be hidden. He wants every thief to know his face. 

"Your night seems to have taken a wrong turn," he says. They are _boys_ , not much older than Yugi, hands covered in blood. "Step away from the body and no one has to get hurt."

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" Their leader is still brandishing his gun and the last thing the Pharaoh needs is another bullet wound to explain to Yugi. Healing takes time, time that Yugi doesn't have. 

"The Pharaoh," he says simply, and unleashes a little bit of hell.

 

 

Yugi wakes up in the shower, his clothes soaking wet and black dye running down his face and into his eyes. He groans and sits up, letting the spray cover him for a while before stripping off his soggy clothes. The Pharaoh is oddly quiet, hovering somewhere over the sink and watching Yugi carefully. 

"How'd it go?"

"It went well. You don't remember?"

Yugi shakes his head. "Not really."

"You took over, near the end."

"I _what?_ " Yugi nearly falls out of the shower. Black dye drips onto the tiles. "No. I didn't. I don't remember, if I had--"

"I remember every second of every day, Yugi. While I began subduing the attackers, you emerged and took care of them yourslf. You used only the skills you have recently acquired."

"Tell me I kept my mask on. _Please_ tell me I kept my mask on."

"Indeed, you did." For some reason this brings him more relief than his potential re-transformation into himself in the field. "And you took care of the criminals as well."

"I didn't--"

"No. You handed them over to the authorities. In a way."

" _In a way?_ Pharaoh, what--"

"You tied them up and left them on the front step of the 'police station'." 

"Stop putting airquotes around _police station_ , it's a real thing."

"It matters little. You subdued them and you left. Came here and passed out in this tub."

" _Fuck_." Yugi pulls the mask all the way off his head and drags the shower curtain closed. He scrubs at himself and his hair, scraping his scalp until the water runs clear and his fingers are pink and wrinkled. There's a bruise beginning to spread over his chest, like someone kicked him. All part of the package deal, being the only real body in this relationship. All the battle wounds are his to claim. 

The Pharaoh doesn't relay anymore of Yugi's daring tale of heroism to him. He vanishes when Yugi steps out of the shower and manages to make it to his room, crawling between the sheets, still wet and naked. Clothes seem so difficult. Sleeping, so much easier.

 

 

Yugi punches his alarm clock at eight and rolls over, mashing a pillow over his face. He feels like his brain is leaking out of his ears. 

"Yugi!" His grandfather bangs on the wall at the bottom of the stairs. "You'll be late for work, come get some breakfast!"

"Got it." He swings his legs over the side of the bed and gasps in pain, then almost hurls at the sight -- his skin is a mottled blue and yellow, curling down toward his ankles and over the tops of his thighs. Whatever happened to him last night, he took a fucking _beating_ and this is not going to heal soon enough. The Pharaoh appears, concern spreading over his face before being replaced by the bored expression he always gets when confronted with the fragility of Yugi's body.

"You must become tougher."

" _I'm trying!_ " Yugi bites back, scrambling to find clothes. "I'm the only one with a _body_ here, okay? I'm the one with the all the breakable parts. You just...just _show up_ and do that mind crush thing and that's it and I have to deal with it in the morning--"

" _Yugi!_ Breakfast, right now!"

"I _know!_ " He pulls on his work clothes and shakes his head. "I need more training. I need more _help._ Otherwise...otherwise we're done. We can't do this anymore." Yugi buttons his shirt. "I'm just one kid. I can't... _protect_ Domino City or whatever all by myself. I just can't." He shuts the part of his head off that keep him in touch with the Pharaoh. He can't do this today, and he won't, if he has a choice. The Pharaoh doesn't push at the wall -- he just settles and Yugi feels him drift away as he heads downstairs, the smell of bacon hitting him and making him realize just how hungry he is.

"About time, young man."

"Couldn't find my hat."

"Likely story." His grandfather sets a plate of bacon on the table and turns on the TV. "You hear about this?" Yugi watches with the sort of horror normally reserved for the Saw franchise as the volume bar at the bottom of the screen extends up and he hears the reporter give the gruesome, shockingly inaccurate details of his nighttime heroics, for lack of any better term.

"Police claim the vigillante refers to himself as the Duelist and has taken to incapacitating the city's local petty criminals and dropping them on the department's door step."

"We're not pleased with him, if he's got any delusions about that." The chief of police swells with anger. "He left us a couple of supposed criminals and no clue as to what they've done. Had to let 'em go. Not the best way to start a morning."

"The police are asking for anyone with information on the Duelist to please come forward." 

Yugi tunes the rest of it out and stares at his plate, suddenly not so hungry. Actually, he wants to throw up. Like, everywhere. All over the table. Or the sink. He could throw up in the sink. He swallows against bile rising in his throat and shoves the food back, scrambling out of his chair. "Yugi?"

"I'm gonna be late. I really need to go. Love you, I'll be late for dinner!" Yugi grabs a jacket and his backpack and heads out the door. He takes a knee by front step, fumbling with the lock on his bike. 

_Not good, not good, not good. We are so fucked. We are screwed we are so screwed._ The Pharaoh says nothing. Typical. Right when Yugi needs him. And _nothing._ The entire city knows they're out there and Yugi brings down the wall and he stays hidden.

He thinks that, maybe, this is when he'll stop. He'll take the puzzle off and build the wall and pretend it never happened. But there is gold running through his veins, and power, too. And it's humming against his skull and pushing him forward.

Whatever happened to him, it happened for a reason. Good or bad or _whatever_ \-- he's something else now. Not just Yugi Muto. And not just himself and a little more. He's himself and his duty. Himself and his pride. Himself and, yeah, fine, _okay_ \-- himself and the pharaoh. 

_Are we going out then tonight?_ The pharaoh shows up now, as Yugi hauls ass up the road on his bike, the wind catching his jacket just _so_ \-- and he feels like maybe he could fly.


	2. greatness, or something like it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Ashton Kutcher had six billion dollars and all the time in the world, he wouldn't come up with this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW look at me adding to this 8 million years later. Please enjoy.

we know who you are  
meet us on the north side of town  
large house on crest street  
nine pm tonight

Yugi got the text while he was at work. That entire time, while he rang up burgers and dumped fries out of the basket and had to ask the new girl to please stop chewing gum while she was training -- his phone was waiting patiently in the back, screen bright with the nightmare text from hell. 

_I don't see how this is a problem,_ the pharaoh says, because he doesn't really see how anything is a problem. _Go to this Crest Street place._ Yugi ignores him, sliding the phone into his pocket and getting his keys out to unlock his bike. The pharaoh sees everything so simply, sees everything as it is, even though Yugi has told him how many times, over and over again -- his world is complicated, and it gets worse every single day.

"I can't go. I don't know who these people are. It could be a crazy stalker person, or that Ashton Kutcher guy. I could get _Punk'd_."

_I don't know what that means._

"Don't worry about it. That isn't the point. The point is we're not going." The pharaoh, however, would not be so easily placated. He pokes around for an hour, asks Yugi _why_ he doesn't want to go, wonders if perhaps Yugi is scared of what he might find. "I am, actually," Yugi mutters, closing his calculus book with a snap. "Now _stop it._ " He leans back in his desk chair, staring at the ceiling. Of course he's _scared._ He's terrified. He had taken over that night and beat those men up. _Yugi_ had done that. 

So, yeah. He is definitely kind of freaked out.

 

 

In the morning he heads to class. With work and ancient spirits and helping out in his grandfather's shop, Yugi sometimes forgets that he's slowly but surely crawling his way toward a degree. A few courses at a time. He didn't have the money for the big university in town, but Domino's community college he could push. A little. The loans were still piling up, and it was enough to give him a massive stomach ache every time he rolled over in bed and let the crushing, wasteful thoughts of just how much debt he was in, how much trouble he _was going to get in_ wash over him before he slept.

 _You should relax_ , the pharaoh says, which is _not_ helpful. Like, at all.

Yugi doesn't say anything as he locks up his bike, tugging on the chain to make sure it's good and tight. Sometimes going to the campus is nice -- he doesn't stand out much, even with the hair. He's small, he keeps to himself. He doesn't make a lot of noise. Most of the kids he went to high school with went to the university or farther away. There's only a few people he actually knows 

Joey Wheeler, for one. Tall, grouchy, always itching for a fight. Yugi and Joey aren't friends, necessarily, but they don't butt heads too much either. Joey's in Yugi's English lit class and he tends to use it as a nap hour instead, sitting at the back of the lecture hall with his head tilted back. The professor doesn't seem to care much. 

He's awake, though, today -- laptop open, thumb scrolling through an article. "Hey, Muto. You hear about this Duelist?"

Yugi's stomach does roughly sixteen backflips. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I saw him on the news. Sort of. The thing. About him. Yeah." 

Joey raises an eyebrow. "Are you having a stroke?" Yugi closes his mouth and sits down. "Whatever. How cool is this guy, huh? Cops are all pissed off, but like, come _on!_ Guy beats up a bunch of criminals! They probably won't start any shit ever again. Who _cares_ if you can't charge 'em with anything?" Joey shakes his head. "Freaking _hero_ is what this guy is." 

Yugi feels his cheeks warm. It's nice to hear someone talk about him like that, even if he can't look at Joey and say _thanks._ A lot better than listening to every cop in the county talk about what a terror he is. 

"Wish I could help the guy out, you know?"

"Huh?" Yugi snaps out of his daze and looks at Joey. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like, you know. I've been doing martial arts since I was, like, four or five. I teach kids at the rec center. Dunno, seems like he could use some extra muscle, if he's gonna be cleaning up the streets." 

Yugi wonders if he should encourage Joey. How it would sound. _Yeah, sure doesn't seem too dangerous. Go for it, man._ He opens his mouth to make a suggestion, but the professor dims the lights to start the lecture, and Joey's asleep a few minutes later. 

 

 

 

don't keep us waiting, duelist  
we will see you tonight

"This means you have to go, doesn't it?" The pharoah is in Yugi's room, peering over the screen of his phone. "I don't understand how this contraption works."

"I have explained it to you a hundred times."

The pharaoh shrugs. "I wasn't really listening."

Yugi sighs. "Yeah, that's what I figured." He pulls out his laptop and looks up the satellite map of Crest Street. It's a thirty minute bike ride from the house. He can definitely push that if his grandfather gets to bed early. Sighing, Yugi zooms in on the only house at the end of the street. It's big, even from an aerial perspective. He groans and drops his forehead to the desk. "Yeah, _okay._ Okay, we'll go."

The pharoah looks incredibly pleased. " _Excellent._ " 

Yugi sighs and putters around his room for a bit longer, waiting for his grandfather to finally go to sleep. When the downstairs light switches off, Yugi waits thirty minutes and finally changes, spraying the temporary dye over his head quickly and tying the bandana back tight. The pharaoh is thrumming with a different kind of energy at the back of his neck. Yugi's never felt this kind of excitement from him before. 

_We are heading into greatness, Yugi._

"It _feels_ like we're heading into trouble."

_Well. Perhaps they are one in the same._

Yugi doesn't say anything to that, just keeps pedalling up the backroads. He's ten minutes out from Crest Street, and he could turn back, he could just say _no_ , he could just _not do this_. But after everything, after the beatings and after spending his life as a runt, kicked around by bullies and ignored and being invisible, Yugi won't lie -- it feels good to be wanted. 

When he pulls into the driveway of the mansion, the gate is shut tight, just a single box with a speaker and button waiting for him. Yugi reaches out to push it, but a voice sounds out over the speaker and he screams. " _Shit!_ " 

_"Who's there?"_

"Uh--"

 _"Oh, it's you. Just a moment."_ The speaker crackles and the gate begins to screech as it opens. Yugi gets off his bike and starts pushing it up the long hill toward the front of the house. The door is open when he gets there, but no one is behind it. He has no clue what to do with his bike, and he can only imagine what they'd think if he brought it in the house -- he leans it against the wall and carefully wipes his boots on the welcome mat before going inside. The door closes with a quiet snap behind him.

"This is creepy," he mutters.

_Stay focused._

"I am. That doesn't help with the creepy stuff." 

Yugi stops in the middle of the entryway, looking up at the crystal chandelier. It's a beautiful thing, casting technicolor shadows on the marble floor under his feet. He wonders, briefly, what it would look like if the fixture fell -- how it would shatter and splinter across the floor, throwing light and glass into the air.

"There you are." A young man with long, black hair comes out of a room to Yugi's right. He's definitely a kid, maybe in middle school, no older than thirteen or so. He looks annoyed, thumbing through the screen of a tablet and not making eye contact. "You're late."

"It's two past nine," Yugi says, but the kid just shakes his head, gestures for Yugi to follow him. There's a spiral staircase that leads up and up and up -- all the way to the fourth floor of the house. "Sorry, who are you? What is this place?"

"You don't need to know my name. And you're in someone's house. Thought that much was obvious." The kid gives Yugi a discerning look, like maybe he was wrong when he let Yugi follow him up the stairs. But it's apparently too late to back out now. He knocks on a large, wooden door and turns the knob. "Seto will see you now."

"Seto--" The door swings open, revealing a large, expansive library, the shelves lined with books that Yugi can tell from here haven't been opened in years. It smells like incense and cold air, one of the large bay windows open to the night. The door closes behind him and Yugi stands awkwardly in the shadows, not sure where his mysterious host even is. He could probably get lost in here. 

"Are you just going to stand there?" The voice is young, though not as young as the kid who brought him here. He sounds about Yugi's age, maybe a bit older. Yugi looks around the room, trying to find him. "Over here," he finally says, stepping into the light. He's tall, brown hair, definitely about Yugi's age. "Join me?" He gestures toward a pair of overstuff chairs in front of the open window. Yugi sits across from him and waits. The doors to the library open again and an older man comes in with a tray of coffee, setting it down at the table between them. "I have to say, I thought you'd be taller," Seto finally says, folding his hands in his lap.

"I had short parents," Yugi says for some reason, reaching for the cup of coffee. "Sorry, how do you know about me?"

Seto doesn't answer. He takes his own coffee and sweetens it, pours a bit of creamer and stirs. The wind picks up and he scowls, standing and closing the window before drawing the blinds. Yugi thinks maybe he just didn't hear the question, and he opens his mouth to ask it again, but Seto finally says: "I have a lot of money, Yugi."

"I noticed."

"Do you know what money gets you?" It's a hypothetical question. Yugi is already bored. "Money isn't just for buying things. It's not just for acquisitions and mergers. Money buys trust. Money buys time and energy. Money is a physical thing that can be turned into an _emotion._ Into a network. This city is my bread and butter, so I make it my business to know exactly what happens in it. You are one of the things happening in it. So, naturally, I know about you."

Yugi frowns. "Are you having me followed?"

"I have a few... _choice_ criminals under my umbrella of contacts. One of them had a small altercation with you a few weeks ago and attached a tracker to your shirt. I'm not sure where that tracker _went_ , but I was able to determine a few basic things about you from the rest of your movements that night. It wasn't hard to put things together. Really, Yugi, you're a bit sloppy." Yugi can't think of what to say to that. It's not a lie. "I'm sure it's tempting to think you won't get caught, but you just attracted a bit of a media frenzy this week. They're going to find you if you keep up like this."

Yugi bites. "Okay. What's the point of this meeting? Are you offering me some tips on keeping to myself? No offense, but _subtle_ isn't exactly the word I'd used to describe this entire experience I've had tonight."

"Didn't I make myself clear to you? I have a great deal of money, Yugi. I'm interested in investing in you. I believe there will be a payoff. Monetarily or otherwise, it's really not important to me. The point is this. I want you to stay active and safe. So I will invest in keeping you that way." 

"How?"

"Better training. Better equipment." Seto looks him up and down. "Better gear. You look like a hobo." Yugi looks at his baggy pants and shrugs. "The point is, again, that you are more useful to me and this city _alive_ than you would be rotting in a jail cell. I like what you've been doing. It's good work. It's not _great_ work. But it's getting there." Seto stands, swinging his hands behind his back. "My father left me a lot of work to do. He left me an antiquated system to finish it with. I have rejected that system, and most of the work. Since his death, this company has garnered three times as much revenue. We've helped rebuild this town."

"Hold up." Yugi stands. "Are you _Seto Kaiba?_ " He nods. "Holy shit."

"Your IQ score indicated to me that you would be a bit quicker on your feet than this," Kaiba muses, raising an eyebrow. "But I understand, most people don't really know there's a human behind the company. Several humans, in fact." Yugi sits back down. "You started taking out the trash, Muto. I want you to keep doing it."

 

 

 

Seto Kaiba gives Yugi some very specific instructions -- he can keep taking his kick boxing lessons if he wants, but he is to go to a very specific instructor for a variety of martial arts. Seto Kaiba will begin paying his tuition and the fees for his lessons. He suggests Yugi get a haircut, but Yugi doesn't pay any attention to that part. He gives him the address of a private tailor who takes his measurements one Tuesday afternoon after class. The next week, Yugi gets a key in the mail which opens a PO Box downtown. There's a black lycra suit with thin, gold fabric running along the seams. It covers his head and spreads his hair down flat and tight.

The pharaoh doesn't like it.

"It's flashy," he says, perched on the edge of the bed while Yugi tries it on. "Tasteless. Smells like money."

"Smells like _awesome_ , you mean. Look, we're legitimate now!"

"I don't like Seto Kaiba."

Yugi sighs, pulling head covering of the suit off, letting it hang over his back. "You've gotta let that go."

"What are his intentions? Why is he doing this? It doesn't seem to make any sense. Protecting the city is the job of these police officers you seem not to care for. Why is he employing vigilante justice to do his bidding?"

Yugi shrugs, peeling the suit off and tossing it into his backpack. "Beats me. But he's paying for my school now. This is like work-study, except better. Kaiba wants me to take jujitsu and let him know who tried to rob which bank last night, that's fine by me. It doesn't matter much. The Kaiba family pretty much owns this town, so honestly, having your own city-wide private security is kind of a cool thing. He has the money."

"Money is hardly power," the pharaoh says. 

"It is in this world." Yugi zips up his back and stares at the opaque form of the pharaoh. "It matters."

"You have power and little money."

"And now I work for Seto Kaiba. That's how it is."

The pharaoh shakes his head. "We don't work for Seto Kaiba. We are using him on our path to greatness."

"You keep saying things like that," Yugi mutters, shaking his head and looking for his pajama bottoms. 

"I was not brought into this world again to play games for this _child_." The pharaoh's voice has acquired a bitter, spitting tone, and it surprises Yugi. "I will tolerate him because I understand that the fates work in ways we are not allowed to understand, but I do not _work_ for him, Yugi. And neither do you."


	3. five six seven eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teá struggles to sort out her possessive boyfriend and abrupt desire for someone else. It goes as well as you'd think it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The saga continues! How neat! How cool!

The stories about the Duelist drop off after a week. Teá knows. She's been watching them carefully, keeping track of his movements and where he'll be next. Even after the news is bored with him, Teá isn't. She's invested. She's committed. She has a plan. 

 

 

 

"Seto with see you now, Miss Gardner."

"It's Teá, Mokuba. I've told you a hundred times." Mokuba flushes and ducks out of the way, leaving the door still shut in front of her. Teá sighs and turns the handle, closing it behind her. Seto Kaiba has a flair for the dramatic he won't admit to, so she's not surprised to find him at his desk, the large, leather back of it turned toward her. "Hello, Kaiba."

"Teá." 

She takes off her jacket and crosses the room to the window seat. If he wants to pretend to be busy while she's here, that's his business. She'll take what she wants after a while. The butler comes in and serves her usual -- coffee with sugar, no milk, odd in Seto Kaiba's opinion. Kaiba finally turns his chair around and stands, crossing the room toward her. 

"I didn't expect you tonight," he finally says. It's a bad lie, but she lets it go. Teá shrugs and sips on her coffee, setting the cup down on the table between them and looking out the window. "He was here, you know. Sat right where you are now."

"Did he accept the offer?" Kaiba nods. "That's good. I thought he might." 

"Because you know him?"

"Knew him," Teá corrects. "Yugi and I haven't seen one another in years. Since middle school, I think." 

Kaiba finally sits down, crossing his legs and leaning back. It's his power stance, or something like it. Teá gets bored with the way he puffs his chest around her, tries to impress her with money and stature. She doesn't need those things to impress her -- Seto Kaiba in and of himself is impressive enough. He lifts his hand, says, "Would you like to see him again?"

"If the right moment came along." It's one of his traps, to get her to confess what he desperately wants from her -- that she doesn't want to see any other men, that she only wants to see him. "I'm not yours, Kaiba."

"I didn't say that."

Teá stands, the reason for her visit having come and gone -- she'll get what she wants from Mokuba, later. Right now she feels cheap, used. "You didn't have to." She turns to go, but he puts a hand on her shoulder, keeping her trapped between his body and the door. "Kaiba--"

"You should stay," he suggests, because he never makes demands or requests -- it's how he insures he'll never really owe her anything. "Don't you think?" he adds.

Teá turns and his hands are on her forearms, drawing her in. She couldn't just fall for someone normal or regular, could she? She couldn't fall for a nice guy, like Yugi, or one of his friends. 

She had to fall for the rich, lonely one. Didn't she?

"I--"

He kisses her, because she's asked him to without really asking, the way she always does. And she falls into it, leaning against him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He buries his face against her shoulder, breathes her in deep. "It's better here, when you stay," he murmurs, and even if he's lying, it's exactly what she wants to hear.

 

 

 

This is her refuge. 

Teá slides into the black leotard, the full lenght of it giving her comfort as it hugs her body, makes her feel small and compact and perfect. She'd left Kaiba before breakfast, but he was already awake, showering when she whispered goodbye into the noise and steam of the bathroom. He'd heard her anyway, because that's what he does. She settles and starts her stretches, every reach pushing the memory of the night before further and further away. 

"You always wear black, Teá." Rebecca Hawkins leans against the barre, drawing her right leg up and down -- she fell last spring, and it's her first month back, though you wouldn't know it. Rebecca's family is stupidly wealthy, and she had the best physical therapy money could buy. "You should try another color, it would look beautiful on you." Coming from any other girl it would be snide, but Rebecca is earnest in all the ways the other girls at the school are not. 

Teá gives her a smile and stands. "I appreciate that." Rebecca opens her mouth to say something else, cheeks flushing red, when their instructor comes in and they takes their places at the barre. 

This is her refuge. Her father had refused to pay for it and Kaiba had offered, but she made it in on her own. Her scholarship hinges on her perfection, and her instructors right her twice as hard as any of the other girls, but it pays off in the end. Teá draws her leg upwards and onto the barre, closes her eyes, and goes somewhere else. 

 

 

 

On Wednesdays she has lunch with her mother, usually downtown near her parents' offices. Her father is out of town for the rest of the year, which is fine for the both of them -- things are easier when he isn't around. 

"Let's do something fun," her mother says, like she always does right before suggesting they go to the same place they always go. Teá sighs and adjusts her sunglasses, stretching her arm and nodding. "Oh, we could go--"

"Why don't we get burgers?"

Her mother balks, looking her up and down. "You want _burgers_? Honey, auditions are in six weeks, you can't--"

"We'll share something," Teá says, ignoring her. There's nothing she hates more than her mother's long-winded monologues about Teá's weight -- either worried she's lost too much, or worried she's going to lose her place at the academy. Her mother continues babbling about it as Teá looks up the address for Yugi's work in her phone and starts leading them there. She isn't sure why, exactly -- maybe because what she'd told Kaiba had been a lie. That she did want to see Yugi, after all this time. That she felt guilty about being a secret part of Kaiba's plan. 

The place is packed when they get in, and Teá can see Yugi from her spot by the door. He's mostly the same -- taller, of course. Same hair. It makes her smile. 

He doesn't look up when she steps in front of the register. "Welcome to Burger Blast, what can I get for you today?"

"Just a number three, please. With a Diet Coke."

"Would you like to Blasto-Size that for--" Yugi looks up, looks right at her, and it sort of catches Teá off guard. "Teá?" He narrows his eyes and then grins, looking happy for the first time in the thirty seconds she's been here. "Holy--"

"Hey, Yugi."

"Yugi?" Her mother looks up from her phone, putting a hand over her chest. "Oh, _Yugi!_ Sweetheart, look. It's Yugi. You remember Yugi."

"I do."

Her mother reaches out and takes his hand. "Look at you. You're so much taller now. And a manager," she adds, looking at his tag. "How nice for you. How's your mother?"

"Out of town," Yugi says, cringing as he does. "Good, I mean. She's good." He clears his throat, tapping the screen in front of him. "It's, uh, six forty-one." Teá hands him some cash. "How've you been?"

"Fine." She takes the receipt when he hands it to her, suddenly very sure this was a bad idea. "I've been really good."

"Teá's going to the dance academy downtown."

Yugi tips his head to the side. "Guess that art school you switched to paid off, huh?" Teá feels her neck flush and she shrugs. "That's really cool." He passes their food over. "I'll see you around, then, yeah?"

Teá swallows thickly and nods. "I'm sure." 

 

 

 

"You saw him yesterday." Kaiba is sitting across from her at the restaurant, his eyes on his phone. Teá nods, because she assumed he'd figure it out. Yugi is Kaiba's new project -- he keeps tabs on important things like that. 

"My mother wanted a burger."

"Don't lie about it," he snaps, setting the phone down. "Don't _lie_ to me."

Teá looks up at him sharply and he flinches. "I'll do what I please, Kaiba. I went to see Yugi because I was curious. I wanted to know what you saw in him." She sips from her wine glass. "I didn't see it." That's the truth of it, probably the only one. Yugi's taller, and he seems more confident -- but he isn't all braun or strength like she thought maybe he'd sprouted into. "But maybe it's something you can't really _see._ "

"Don't start with the magic thing again," Kaiba says bitterly. "You know I hate it."

"Yes, I do. But I also know that I grew up with Yugi Muto, and there is nothing heroic about the boy I knew or the boy I met yesterday. Perhaps there's something--"

"He's acquired some assistance," Kaiba interrupts. Teá narrows her eyes. "A couple of young men you went to school with as well. Wheeler and Taylor?"

"Joey and Tristan?" Teá asks, shaking her head. "What--"

"They've taken to following him around this week. I don't know if he's noticed yet, or if he's simply pretending they're not there. But they definitely are. Calling themselves the Hammer and Fist."

"Charming," Teá mutters, running her thumb over the bottom of her glass. Kaiba laughs. "What's so funny?"

"That some boy you went to middle school with has created a following of people. And you don't see anything special about him."

"Yes," she says dryly. "It's hilarious."

Kaiba folds his arms over his chest. "Did you love him? When you were a girl?"

" _What?_ " Teá almost knocks her glass over. His expression is smug, lips curled in a way she hates. "I was a _child_ , Kaiba. I didn't love Yugi. He was lonely, and our fathers had known one another. There was nothing to it. We were hardly teenagers. What is the matter with you? Why are you jealous? I told you--" She leans forward, eyes fixed right on his. "I am not _yours_."

"It was just a thought."

"Then forget it," she snarls, lifting her glass again. "I'm getting tired of this conversation."

Kaiba's expression softens, and he reaches out to take her hand. "I apologize. Really, I do. I just...I've never felt this way about anyone before. I don't want to lose you. Not to anyone or anything."

Teá sighs, threading their fingers together and nodding. "It's alright," she says. "I'm not going anywhere."

It seems to be exactly what he needs to hear, because he pays the bill and leads them out. His driver pulls the car to the curb and Kaiba opens the door for her, sliding in after and pressing his lips to her neck. "Will you stay tonight?"

"Of course--" The car takes off with a jolt, and they flight backwards, their limbs tangled up. "What the _hell--_ "

"We're taking a drive," a deep voice says, and Teá swears she knows it. "Yugi might trust you, Seto Kaiba. But I do not."

"What are you--"

"I am the Duelist," the voice says. "I am the power that you covet and have decided to pay for. Yugi is my host."

Kaiba leans forward to grab the man, but there's something between them, something solid that shimmers when it connects with his fist. He swears and grabs at his hand, snarling at the man, "What the hell are you saying?"

"Perhaps you don't believe in magic or fate, but I assure you, it is playing a great part here." Teá shivers, unable to look away. "I suggest you ask Yugi to explain it, since he can stomach a conversation with you much longer than I can. Your driver is fine, by the way." The Duelist turns the car down a street and stops, turning it off and finally angling to face them. He _looks_ like Yugi, but there is something about him that _isn't_ Yugi at all. 

Teá _wants_ , suddenly. She wants a great deal. 

"This city is in danger. There are forces at work that you could not possibly fathom on your own. There will come a time when the answers will be made clear to you, but for now, you will have to trust me." The Duelist unbuckles and opens the door. "When you speak with Yugi, do not be angry. I did this without his permission. He will be very cross with me." 

And suddenly, the man is gone. Teá sees something like gold shining in the front seat. But when she blinks, it's gone. 

Kaiba looks at her, his expression tight and angry as their driver groans in the passenger seat. He looks at her like he wants an explanation, but Teá has nothing. 

Well, not nothing. Inside, she's burning up.

She's never wanted something so much in her entire life. 

"Magic," Kaiba spits, reaching forward to wake up the driver. "Get _up_ , you idiot. Take us home." He massages his hand and leans back. " _Fate._ " 

"Yes," Teá says quietly, taking his sore hand in her own. "All of your favorite things."


End file.
